My grandmother died and passed down her cabin to my brother and me. We just discovered a secret she had hidden from us for two decades

Just joining us? I recommend starting at the beginning. Too far back? You can refresh your memory with the previous update here.

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Eric and I ran so hard that my lungs felt like they'd caught fire. Exhausted, I fell to the dirt with a groan. The pain of my smashed face, broken wrist, and a lifetime of poor decisions had finally caught up with me. "I... I'm done," I breathed.

Eric doubled back, crouching next to me. "Take it easy man. Look!" He pointed ahead. "We're nearly to the river. Let's get you some water."

So we were. Now that I was catching my breath, the rest of my senses seemed to sharpen again. I could hear the rushing current just barely through the howling wind. I pushed myself to my feet and the two of us made our way to the bank, where I dropped to my knees and slurped as much water as my mouth could hold.

"Pass me the book," Eric said.

I reached inside my jacket and handed it to him, its pages rolling in the storm. He held it closed, up to the light of the moon.

"The entire time you had this," he said, squinting at the cover. "And you never noticed the author?"

I looked at him, wiping dribbles of water from my mouth. “I mean, it's not like I've had it my whole life. I left it here when we went home." I really didn't need any mementos of that week. “Who wrote it?”

"Grandma,” he said incredulously. He turned the book toward me and jabbed a finger at the bottom text. "Gayle G. Fasdrow."

Well, I’ll be damned.

"Don't sweat it," Eric said, shaking his head. "I missed it on first glance too." He glanced around, no doubt scouting for a place free from wind with enough moonlight read by. Eventually, he settled on a large boulder near the water, shielded from the storm by a gnarled fir tree. He clambered up it with some effort. “Did you know she was a writer?" he called down to me.

“Not at all," I said. Come to think of it, I had no idea about anything grandma did, besides come over every Christmas and bake apple tarts. Mom never talked about it.

Eric flipped the book open to the first page and adjusted his glasses. “Mind keeping a look-out while I peruse this thing?”

I nodded, rising from the riverbed and looking up and down the shore. No sign of the Man, and no sign of the Beast that destroyed the cabin either. So far so good. I cradled my broken wrist and breathed a sigh of relief, pushing it out of my blood-caked nostrils in a painful snort.

I hiked up the side of the bank, getting to higher ground so I could better keep watch over the area. As I did, the book played in my mind. The Mysteries of the Cryptids. Why would grandma write something like that anyway? For kicks? She’d never so much as mentioned the Loch Ness Monster or Abominable Snowman growing up, and here she was a supposed authority on them. It seemed bizarre to me, but then, all of this did. Had she known about the Man too? What about the Beast?

She must have.

Something splashed in the river, and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I swallowed, my eyes searching up and down the running current, scanning every outcropped rock and wayward branch.

Just a fish. Hopefully.

Seconds turned to minutes, the only sound coming from the croak of river toads and Eric flipping through the pages of Mysteries. Maybe I was making a bigger deal about things than I needed to. I closed my eyes and tried the breathing exercises my therapist recommended.

Then another splash. This one closer. Louder.

I strained my vision. Even beneath the glow of the full moon, the river’s dancing waves were difficult to keep track of. Light gleamed off of them one moment, then died the next. Small flickers caught my eye, but when I’d look, I’d see only dark water staring back at me. Was something swimming toward us?

Eric flipped another page of the book nonchalantly, his expression thoughtful, eyebrows furrowed in focus. He hadn’t noticed a thing.

Something felt wrong though. It was the same feeling I’d had when I first came upon the Man by the River, like my mind was picking up on things that I hadn’t yet fully processed.

“Eric,” I called, taking a couple steps on the stone shore. “Come away from the water.”

He looked up, perplexed. “Why?” He adjusted his glasses and looked around, holding his hair against the wind. “Is something here? I need the light of the clearing to read, Matt.”

“Just get off the fucking rock, man. Come over to me.” I glanced upward, the moon shone, pale and ominous through drifting clouds. “There’s plenty of light over here.”

“I’m nearly finished, just relax.”

“Now, man!”

Groaning, he creased his page and closed the book, then slid down the big rock, carefully. He steadied himself on the wet, clacking stones as he walked towards me. “Fuck sakes, Matt.”

Another splash.

“The day we met the Man by the River,” I said, the pain in my wrist fading against the backdrop of my mounting fear. “I came back down to the water.”

“What?” Eric said, bracing himself against the roaring wind.

“I forgot the book. Jake brought us down fishing rods, remember? I was so excited that I'd forgotten all about Mysteries. I left it on the riverbed.” I was transfixed by the river now. Something was in there, I knew it. “When I came back down to get it, I saw something in the waves.”

“Like a fish?” Eric said, finally reaching me. He turned, following my gaze to the river, though he looked skeptical.

I shook my head. “Bigger. I think. I don’t know. I just grabbed the book and ran.”

Another splash, this one near the shore. I backed up, nearly slipping on the stones. Behind us, the pitch black of the woods, and in front of us, whatever lurked in the water. “You hear that?” I said.

Eric nodded, stashing the book in his pocket. “After what happened earlier, I say we don't take any chances. Let's find somewhere safer to read."

Where though? The woods? We’d get lost, and there was no question of that. Back to the cabin, or whatever was left of it? No point, the car was totalled, and besides… whatever Beast had come knocking didn’t sound nearly as reasonable as the Man. It was probably still around.

No, we were resigned to the river. We'd just need to be careful, and stay as far from the shore as we could.

“Good lord,” said a voice nearby.

I jumped, my arm flying in front of Eric instinctively.

“You boys have really worked yourselves up, haven’t you?” I wheeled around to see a familiar face standing at the height of the river bank, a stone in his hand. He hurled it, and it landed in the water with a heavy splash.

“Uncle Jake?” I shouted.

He began walking down the bank. Slowly, with a sway in his step. Like he’d been drinking. “Good news, boys!” He shot us a smile, but it felt wrong. Horrible. His eyes were unfocused, and his tongue lolled from his mouth. “I just found Griff, and he can't wait to see you."